Part 18 (1/2)

She wasn't certain how many of her thoughts he read in her expression, but what she saw in the depths of his dark brown eyes was tenderness. And love? She dared hope that was what it was.

With a gentle touch, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn't even realized it had come loose. ”You've had a difficult morning,” he murmured.

She longed to throw herself into his arms and accept the comfort of his embrace. She backed away instead. ”Why are the gates kept locked?”

”Aaron,” he said simply. ”He wouldn't harm anyone, but he has ... spells. He goes off on his own if he isn't watched. It's for his protection that we don't leave the gates open.”

”He was in New York.”

”Yes. He's perfectly capable of taking a train by himself. But he doesn't always behave rationally. It's worse when he's among strangers. And when he's been drinking. I'm afraid his luck will run out one of these days and he'll be arrested and confined in an inst.i.tution. It happens, you know.”

Diana nodded. That was how Nellie Bly had gotten her sensational story. It had been frighteningly easy to end up committed to a madhouse.

”Did he reach Bangor before the blizzard?” she asked.

Ben gave her a sharp look, as if he guessed what she might really be asking, but neither of them voiced the possibility that Aaron could have been the one who'd attacked her in that alley.

”No. And the telegram I got in New Haven advised me of that fact. That's why I couldn't stay longer, and why I didn't invite you to come with me. I expected to have to track him down. There's a place in Boston he goes sometimes. I meant to try there first.”

”Ben -- ”

”He's harmless, Diana. I swear it.” He managed a self-deprecating smile. ”But I still don't want you posing for him.”

”And your mother? Is she harmless?”

”Ah, well. Mother. She's an entirely different case. I think that, rather than speculate, we'd better discuss what happened today with her.”

A few minutes later, Ben ushered Diana into Maggie Northcote's inner sanctum, a sumptuous boudoir decorated in the Oriental style. Diana's jaw dropped at the sight of Moorish banners hanging from the ceiling and walls covered with lattice-work screens, all except the one filled with Moorish cabinets loaded down with bric-a-brac. A divan, broad, low, and deeply cus.h.i.+oned, was draped with a heavy rug and heaped with fluffy pillows. Several larger pillows created a ”cozy corner” on the floor.

”Oh, you're free,” Maggie said, sounding surprised but not particularly disappointed. ”Come in and have a seat.” She indicated the divan. ”The trick is to curl one foot underneath yourself, lean back, then build a wall of cus.h.i.+ons at shoulder-level. Wonderfully relaxing after hours sitting upright in a hard chair.”

Diana surveyed the obstacle course between the door and the divan. The entire area was littered with inlaid Damascus tables and Cairene folding stands which held a.s.sorted statuary and delicate porcelain vases.

”I don't dare move. I'm afraid I'll knock something over.”

”Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in here.”

Grinning, Maggie opened a narrow door at a right angle to the hall entrance, revealing a room no bigger than a built-in closet. The small cell was furnished with only two pieces of furniture -- a library table and a lattice-back chair.

”Here I write,” Maggie said. ”The outer room is for dreaming.”

”Why did you lock Diana in the crypt?” Ben asked, cutting short the tour.

”Research.”

”I beg your pardon?”

”You remind me of my current heroine,” Maggie informed Diana. ”It was very helpful to me to see how you took various statements I made to you earlier. That's when I conceived the idea of locking you in the vault to find out how you'd deal with being shut up with all those dead bodies. I would have released you after a few hours.”

”Mother,” Ben objected, ”it would have been one thing to ask for her help, but -- ”

”If she'd known there was no danger, she'd not have acted the same way.”

Having voiced this irrefutable logic, Maggie turned her attention back to Diana. Her eerily cat-like eyes gleamed. ”Did you scream? Did your breathing change?”

As Maggie peppered her with questions, Diana found she could no longer doubt the other woman's motive, even if she didn't approve of what she'd done. She supposed a good deal could be excused on the grounds of excessive zeal. Certainly there was genuine enthusiasm in the way the older woman talked about her work in progress. The writer in Diana responded to that. She did not entirely abandon her doubts about Maggie's sanity, but she did end up cooperating.

Wouldn't it have been easier to lock yourself in?” she asked, interrupting the flow of questions.

”I tried that. It didn't help. I suppose I was already too familiar with the place.”

”You'd spent time in the crypt before?”

”Only once. That was a great disappointment, too. At the end of October, just before Ben left on tour, I was in there for hours one night, trying to evoke a spirit. Of course, I left the door open. I wanted the effect of the wind, but I quite lost my temper when my candles kept blowing out.”

”Do you often rely upon real experiences?”

”Oh, dear me, no! I use legend and history for my inspiration. And I have an excellent imagination.” Maggie tapped the side of her head. ”On the other hand, I am not one to overlook the opportunity for first-hand observation when it walks in my door.”

Diana's uneasiness returned. ”I see.”

Maggie's laugh had a surprisingly girlish lilt. ”And I do love dreaming up new ways to kill people, and clever places to hide the bodies.”

Chapter Fourteen.

Ben had come home for luncheon. Belatedly, he and Diana sat down to a rushed meal. ”I have to leave again soon. I have patients scheduled.”

Diana barely listened to the excuse. She felt more comfortable about Maggie now, but she'd remembered an unsettling contradiction to do with Aaron. ”Is Ernest gatekeeper?” she asked. ”Does he stand by to open and close it?”

”Why do you ask?”

”Because he locked it after you brought me in, and he was nowhere in sight when I wanted to get out.”

Ben finished his soup before he replied. ”The day you arrived, Ernest's very presence meant Aaron had already returned. I told him to wait by the gate and lock up after everyone was in for the night.” He glanced at his pocket watch and rose in haste. ”I'm late. I have to go.”

”Take me back with you. I'd like to see your office.”

He shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. ”This morning a lake is covering the pavement from Center Street to Ess.e.x Street. The snow machines have been out sc.r.a.ping the roads where there's just ice, but mud and water are another matter. Wait until tomorrow. I'd like you to see the city when she glistens like the queen she is.”

”Logic works better than sorcery,” she remarked.

His puzzled look made her wonder if he realized just how potent his brand of charm could be. Did he know women saw him on first acquaintance as an engaging rogue, even without the dark and mysterious aura he'd had as Damon Bathory?

She could only hope that the man she was now coming to know was the genuine Ben Northcote and not just another creation of a clever charlatan. That she'd once fallen for the false front presented by Evan Spaulding gave her reason to fear she might still be vulnerable to such tricks.

”I'll try to be back early,” he said, stopping to kiss her cheek on his way out.